To Rekindle the Flame
by AutumnSouls
Summary: The way to Valinor is lost, and Men and Elves despair in their decaying world as an old evil arises again. All of Arda stands upon the edge of a knife. And then there's Lily, a source of magic unlike any before seen in Middle-earth. And Sauron knows it. Fem!Harry.
1. What Lies Unseen

**Note:**

This would diverge during the Hobbit, the One Ring wouldn't play much of a role, and it would follow Lily (fem!Harry) as she attempts to stop Sauron from taking over Middle-earth. This first chapter is inspired a bit by Shadow of Angmar, and is therefore somewhat dark, but the future chapters would not be.

If you'd like to see anything in particular in this story (other HP characters, romance, locations), leave a review! I also wouldn't mind a beta.

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To Rekindle the Flame

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_Chapter One_

_What Lies Unseen_

In a fortress in Mirkwood there lived a witch.

It was not a normal fortress, filled with knights and horses and swords and shields, nor yet an abandoned one with nothing but dust and dirt and remnants of the past. The name given to it was Dol Guldur, and darkness dwelled within.

Beneath the black stone, down in the deepest dungeon, shadowed and silent, lay chained a source of magic unlike any before seen in Middle-earth; boundless in her potential, torn from her world and imprisoned for purposes of which she did not yet fully know.

Ignorant but for the knowledge of vile things made, multiplied, or magnified by her magic: orcs, trolls, wargs, and those which were more dreadful than the dementors they resembled, instilling a terror in her heart that was inexplicable: the Nazgûl.

Unlike the guards of Azkaban, which would bring about her worst memories, they seeped into her very soul a kind of horror that had never been matched even by the presence of Lord Voldemort himself, who was very much dead now and had been for weeks.

Or perhaps it had been months. The sky here was dark and without sun, an eternal night, and it was difficult to tell. It didn't help that with each passing sleep there came a kind of darkness which buried itself deeper within her; and with that the days blurred, her hope diminished, her sanity struggled, and her identity was dismantled further.

Her magic had already been used to fuel the power and creation of things that were sinister and altogether a disgrace to her magic. If her growing grasp of the Black speech was indeed any grasp at all, it was all for war.

Typical.

And what was torturing a girl just out of her teens to them?

"Sûr! Sûr, Lilith uth Mor!"

Lily could barely muster the strength to speak, much less lift her head to see the speaker. "That's not" — she took a breath — "my name..."

Pain streaked across her face, and her lips burst with blood like crushed cherries. She knew the taste of it well.

"Gashn tug amukh gashn-u, skessa!" The orc bent over, his face close, his smile terrible, and his breath putrid. "Agh gashn tug izubu Burz Laam!"

"Daka lat," Lily said, and the words were foul on her tongue.

The orc threw his head back and laughed. It echoed through the room and into the dark hallway. Then, as he brought a stone bowl under her chin to collect her blood, he said words which made Lily's insides become cold and sick: "Uth Nazgûl ath katu." And then again: "Uth Nazgûl ath katu." When enough blood was collected he stepped back and made for the exit. "Uth Nazgûl ath katu."

Lily closed her eyes and prepared herself. Pleading never worked with the Nazgûl and the darkness they brought.

The orc cackled as he left. "Skriki, Lilith un Mor, skriki!" And other orcs beyond her walls laughed too, and all around echoed the words, "Skriki!" "Skriki!" "Skriki!"

Then the Nazgûl came.

And such fear was upon her that she could not scream, or beg, or think thoughts that were anything more than loosely coherent. Darkness gathered itself around her — in her very core, it seemed — and she knew as the days continued to blur that she would not withstand the patience of the Nazgûl.

Or that which dwelled beyond. For it was not the Nazgûl who explored, ripped, and corrupted her magic. They weakened her mind, unmade it, so the Shadow could also make her the same as them.

The Shadow, as she knew no other name for it and it remained always unseen, was like nothing she had experienced before. It was ancient, terrible, something that spoke more of evil incarnated than simple dark wizard, something that made her gut scream, her eyes fail, her ears ring, and her courage falter. Voldemort would have been frightened.

(And how utterly insignificant Voldemort seemed to her now.)

Even when it did nothing more than watch, when it did not intrude upon her mind as it did when the Nazgûl came, the hairs on her neck would still stand and she would feel there was something in the shadows of her cell, lurking just out of sight; and if she turned her head too quickly she feared she would see it, a great and evil entity, tall and menacing, looming over her, staring without blinking.

Yet she remained as resilient as she could, for her will had been forged in fire and her mind would remain hers as long as she could manage it. But still she learned where she could. At times she had no choice. And at other times she welcomed the knowledge.

Such as that of Middle-earth, a world not hers, and its lore and history. But — and here there _always_ seemed to be a _but_ — it came with a price. The more knowledge she let in, the more the Shadow's power bled into her.

Her hair no longer glowed like flame or swayed in the wind like the leaves of autumn. Thick and voluminous it may have remained, but its fire was left extinguished. It was now black like the deepest shadow, from where this evil must've warped itself into existence.

It was expected she was to throw away her birth name, that of Liliana Potter, and take up a new name. Of Lilith the Black, a name closer to hers but still different, and she would become the Witch-Queen of Rhovanion.

But she would not yet lose another part of herself. Not until much more time passed. Nearly once she broke free of her shackles and escaped, but there was always a watchful Shadow on her and if anything, the near-escape came closer to breaking her than anything the Shadow did.

It remained a painful reminder that her small moment of happiness was ripped away abruptly, that the tentative blossom of hope she had let in was so easily swept away and back into the void, whence it might never return. And she was left chained, tortured, and taught.

Time did pass, and with it came also weariness, and then defeat. And so, in the end, it seemed Lily fell into darkness, and from her shadow rose the Witch-Queen, just as the Shadow and his Nazgûl had anticipated.

But they were all of them deceived. For in the depths of her mind she hid herself, beyond the darkest corner of thoughts, deep, deep, deep in naught but shadows of memories.

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**Note:**

Few things I wanted to address.

Sauron in the books had a body by the time the Hobbit happened, and he does have a body here, but I've kept it weak and allowed him to remain nothing but a shadow when he needs. So yes, he affects Lily that badly even when only a shade. This also won't be a dark!fem!Harry or anything. Lily has gone into mental hiding, and something twisted has come out to play, but she'll be back :)

And not that it's much important, but here are the translations for the Black Speech parts:

Lilith uth Mor = Lilith the Black

Gashn tug amukh gashn-u, skessa! = Speak only when spoken to, woman!

Agh gashn tug izubu Burz Laam! = And speak only our Dark Tongue!

Daka lat = Kill you

Uth Nazgûl ath katu = The Nazul are here

Skriki, Lilith un Mor, skriki = Scream, Lilith the Black, scream!


	2. From the Shadows Risen

**Note:**

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. They motivate me greatly. And please leave a review for this chapter as well! Tell me what you liked, what you want to see, if you have any questions, etc. I also wouldn't mind a beta for this story, to check for consistency and anything that might not make sense.

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_Chapter Two_

_From the Shadows Risen_

Ominous was the right word for it, for the grey sky and its dark clouds. They belonged not to the typical gloomy day, but told of a coming storm. Yet they moved along, oblivious of the troubles of the world as Lily had been before torn away from her mental haven, as though fished out from the peaceful depths of a sea finished finally with its wrath.

So though her mind may have been full of chaos as she woke, around her was calm. Only the sound of wind was in her ears. She pushed herself up, slowly, wary of either injuries or enemies, and looked around. Recognition broke through her mess of thoughts: this was the top of Dol Guldur. But what she saw stayed her rising panic.

The fortress's tallest tower was no more. Rubble lay where it had once stood, the dust long settled. Orcs and wargs were scattered about, some half-buried, most dirtied or coated in grey matter, but all dead. All that was near her were pieces of wood, pale and shattered.

Relief washed over her. She couldn't remember anything; not how she came to be here nor what else might've happened between then and now; but she was at least alone. Solitude was the best one could hope for in Dol Guldur. It had been why she had retreated into her mind, which was at the moment aching the more she tried to remember anything.

As she further probed her mind, though, there surfaced memories of a sort — or rather feelings, distant and difficult to grasp. Middle-earth... yes, she had learned of Middle-earth, but not much past what it was. Certainly not the geography. Yet, thinking of it now brought up some semblance of the surrounding land. This she knew she had not learned while imprisoned.

When she thought of Dol Guldur and what lay west of it, for instance, dread clutched at her heart. There was something formidable there, something powerful, and she knew she would avoid it, choosing instead to head east. To the south there were barren lands. Or she would go north, for her mind told her there was familiarity and something like comfort there.

How these feelings came about she could only guess, but those guesses were disturbing. The Shadow had wanted to make her like a Nazgûl, corrupted and devoid of free will. Had this happened? Had her retreat into her mental refuge allowed the being to use her and her magic? Perhaps the thing possessing her became learned in the world of Middle-earth, and now that Lily was back, once again in control of her body, some shadow of those memories remained.

Whether or not this was the case, it still raised the question of how she was back, for Lily did not come back on purpose; she had been torn from her slumber.

And now she came to her senses, and felt a faint fear still remaining. Not of the confusion that comes with waking somewhere not wholly familiar, or not knowing how it is one got there, but of something else entirely. Something quite unnatural.

Lily knew, then, what must have woken her. _They_ were coming.

Even from afar she could feel the Nazgûl and their unholiness. Perhaps their master was not here, likely not even amongst them, but she knew that without her wand she would be defeated utterly. Captured again and cast once more into the shadows if she stayed much longer.

She scrambled to her feet at the thought, nearly tripping on her black cloak, and then again on a body. Carefully she made her way through the maze of dead and stone, hoping none were still alive, waiting to suddenly attack.

After reaching the edge of the fortress, she saw that the hill it was built upon might've been close to being called a mountain with its immensity. The forest down below felt a mile away. And the forest itself stretched on for what must've been hundreds of miles in all directions but one: the west, where great mountains stood tall and proud against rolling clouds.

Then, before she could retreat from her vulnerable position, four dark figures emerged from the trees, cloaked in black. Terror swept up the hill, across the stone, and into Lily's very being, which ached in a way she had never experienced; she had never felt her soul before, but now it was unmistakable in its woe.

The Nazgûl saw her. Shrieks pierced the air, and they wasted no time in rushing up and into some kind of hidden passages laid into the hill itself, which had many more bodies lying upon it.

Then she remembered: it was not the Nazgûl that had prevented her from Apparating before, but the magic of their master, who was indeed not there with them; she would've felt it.

Before she spun on the spot, she looked down to the tree line and memorized it. She could not Apparate far, as she knew no other land, but it would take the Nazgûl by surprise, would let her flee into the forest before they realized she was gone. Once she was confident about it, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoped she wouldn't Splinch herself, then spun and vanished into the Void.

There came the familiar feeling of being squeezed through the smallest tube, but it wasn't only a moment as it should have been. It lasted far too long, and when it was done she did not land on dirt, or stone, or anything.

Instead, she floated in nothing, as though suspended in space, unable to feel anything but herself, hearing only her heavy breathing. Panic rose in her, and this time nothing she saw held it down, for she could see nothing and that itself was distressing. She could not move from her spot, not even if she flailed her limbs. It was truly as though she was in space. But there were no stars, no light, no distant memories like there had been in her mind, no anything.

Yet she did not feel alone.

Something else was near, something colossal lurking in the black, and she could feel it rising and rising, coming closer, curious, a kind of power that made the Shadow's own just that: a shadow of the full thing.

And then out of the pitch blackness there came something even darker in hue. Shaped like an enormous hand, each finger larger than her, though she could barely comprehend the color, for it seemed almost like one she had never seen before, something she shouldn't have been able to process yet was being forced through her eyes and into her mind, and if she saw any more she'd surely go insane with horror —

She Disapparated before it grasped her.

Though eased of wherever she had just been, the old terror came onto her as she Apparated back where she had left, and right by a Nazgûl.

It gave its terrible high-pitched cry as it swung around to face her, and her soul wailed in response, an agonizing feeling deep within her that she could not explain — or begin to process, for the Nazgûl went for its blade and so Lily was upon it before it could draw the sword, clutching at its arms with desperation.

Eyes closed tight from the torture, she managed to break out of her chaotic mess of thoughts enough to scream, "_Incendio_!"

Flames sprang from her hands, setting the Nazgûl ablaze — and in the pain and confusion, the two were unbalanced and pushed over the edge of where they stood.

Down they fell, like a screaming ball of flame, quickly extinguishing from the rushing wind. The ground rushed up to meet her first — Lily pulled herself around, arms burning — "_Molliare_! _Molliare_!" — but it was wandlessly and in the moment and on a Nazgûl and she had no idea if it would work —

The Nazgûl hit the dirt first. There was a sickening sound of a body breaking and before Lily could wonder if the Cushioning Charms had worked, they were rolling down the rest of the hill, together, each crying their pains in the other's ear.

Finally, they came to a stop at the bottom, covered in dirt. Her body ached and her arms seared in pain, which made no sense; the flames should have torched only the Nazgûl, as they were of _her_ creation and _her_ magic — but now was not the time for seeking explanations — she remained in danger — and the Nazgûl beneath her still stirred. What these wretched abominations could be if they could survive such a fall...

Time was of the essence. Again she ignited her hands, and she threw them into the wraith's hood. Its screech was deafening; and as she dug her flaming fingers into its unseen flesh, new pain was upon her. Her hands felt the fire, though they shouldn't — and when the Nazgûl brought its own onto her arms to pull her away, they too began to burn again — and there Lily realized it was not her flames burning her, but the touch of the Nazgûl itself. She pulled back, unable to bear it any longer.

The stench of burnt skin was in the air. Quirrell swam to the front of her mind then, and she wondered briefly if her first and last kill would be by fire; she felt as though she might drop dead at any moment.

But she did not. Instead the shattered body beneath her crumpled, and from its flattened robes rose a true wraith, as Lily had known them to be, black and eldritch. Its cry rent the air, heavy and shuddering, and then it faded and was lost in the wind and shrill wailing of the other Nazgûl.

They knew she had killed one of their own, and they were in a rage, ready to bring vengeance down upon her. If one had nearly defeated her, and victory came only by a fall from a great height, then what chance did she have surviving the remaining?

Knees shaking, she stood. Her energy had already been drained from her; such was the power of the Nazgûl. She regained it only when the others went back into the tunnels in an attempt to reach her. With the stone and dirt between them, she found her courage and into the forest she fled, her soul weeping along the way.

Legs, lungs, chest, and soul burning, she ran — darting between trees — jumping over roots — ducking below low-hanging branches — and venturing further into the menace of Mirkwood.

Though she nearly collapsed a few times from the trauma of the roll down the hill, Lily didn't tire as soon as she would have expected. Lilith the Black had kept her in shape, it seemed, and for that, at least, she could thank her corrupted self.

Only when she was sure the Nazgûl were far behind did she at last slow and rest, falling against a tree and panting. It had been a long time since she had ran like this, and her throat begged for comfort. Bringing her cupped hands to her lips, Lily whispered to her palms.

"_Aguamenti_... _Aguamenti_... _Aguamenti_..."

Water rose from her skin, fresh and heavenly to her cracked lips and dry throat. She took a moment to marvel as she drank, too, at how easily wandless magic was coming to her. Perhaps another feat of Lilith the Black. Witch-Queen indeed. Or perhaps it was just her. She had practiced much wandless magic during the hunt for Horcruxes, when her wand had been broken and only Hermione's remained.

Tears then fell into her palms, salting the water. _Hermione_.

Fear and confusion had consumed Lily so deeply that Hermione hadn't crossed her mind for what felt like years now. Not her, not Hogwarts. Now she longed for Earth. Not Middle-earth, but the place she had been born in, lived in, torn from. She couldn't remember how it had happened, how she had come to this evil, evil place.

Maybe uncertainty wouldn't weigh so heavily on her shoulders if Hermione were here — if anyone were. Alone and ignorant of _so much_, Lily had no idea of how she could get back to her own home, if it was possible. Her best hope was that Middle-earth was nothing more than a large pocket dimension parallel to the normal world, but something in her gut told her this was not the case. She was indeed in another world, alone, wandless, and it made her want to both sob and vomit.

It would not do, however, to continue being so loud in a dark forest such as this. Mirkwood smelled something foul, felt fouler, and Lily had already made enough racket with her dash through its thickets. But she didn't feel quite safe yet. An hour might be all the Nazgûl needed to catch up, to find her, to drag her back to that nightmare.

Lily brought herself back to her feet, ignoring her aching and stinging arms and legs, and continued north, toward that strange feeling of comfort the direction brought her.

There were odd noises in the undergrowth she slogged through, and beneath the leaves piled endlessly thick on the floor; she could not make out what they belonged to. All this and the still and stuffy air made even Lily feel claustrophobic — and she had grown up in a cupboard under the stairs. It didn't help that thoughts of all that had happened since waking clouded her.

Wandless magic, Middle-earth, Mirkwood, Dol Guldur, the Nazgûl... They had been called wraiths by the orcs, and wraiths in her own world were bodiless. But she supposed they had to have bodies, or they wouldn't be able to wear robes or wield blades in the first place. And did it really matter anyway? She had killed one. There was one less thing to hunt her down.

The day wasted away, the few beams of sunlight peeking through the treetops dimming and then disappearing. Night came, and with it an oppressive darkness, gliding through the forest until she could not see even her own hands. The creatures became quiet, too. With the stuffy air and the heavy silence, it became altogether suffocating, and she was left believing this world as a whole was tainted with evil, and that perhaps this was her Hell; a punishment for her failures.

She banished all thoughts of it, for the thoughts of demons had always unsettled her, especially since learning of magic, but still she remained wary. It was far too dark around her for her liking. So, with a deep breath to calm herself, she attempted to cast Bluebell Flames in one hand. Only on the third try did the spell work, and even then the light did not reach far. Really, all it did was cause the shadows to flicker and appear as though they were moving.

It made her all the more uncertain, but she kept it aflame anyway, for it gave warmth without burn and a deterrent to all things lurking in the dark. She hoped. Still, it wasn't good enough. Weariness was dragging her toward sleep, but she wished to get one last look at her surroundings.

So she whispered to her other hand, "_Lumos_," but no light came. Once more, and still the spell failed. It was her fourth try when something happened, when she pictured the spell in another way, not at the tip of her finger but deeper.

Beginning in her palm, beneath her skin, a glow came to life. It was a deep red, her blood lit as though by a torch. But it was still not enough, so Lily said the incantation once more; this time she risked saying it louder, "_Lumos_!" and behold!

Her entire hand blazed like molten metal, illuminating her immediate surroundings clearly — and the light was reflected in the many sets of eyes around her. Cold shot down her spine, like an icy spider crawling its way down her back and leaving webs in place to straighten it... All sorts of creatures were watching, some likely rodents, and some insects but with eyes far larger than any insect had a right to have.

Then they all blinked, as though startled, and shifted, as though looking elsewhere, and then vanished. There were no more reflections. Only darkness remained. There was only one conclusion as to why. Something had scared them off. And if she herself hadn't been enough, then what was? Was it here still? Nothing rushed out to attack her. Yet. Lily crouched down beside a tree. Any moment now... but moments passed... and still nothing showed itself.

It was silent; in her attempt to make out something — _anything _— Lily almost thought she saw a tree move.

In the end, with the Four-Point Spell tugging her arm in the right direction, she continued north. She wound in and out amongst the trees, never able to walk straight for any appreciable amount of time.

The hurt in her soul began to lessen eventually, which was somewhat comforting regarding the eyes she felt on her back. There was something indeed following her in these woods, but at least it was no longer the Nazgûl.

"Might not be a Nazgûl," she grumbled, "but with my luck there'll be a bloody dragon in the bushes."

There was no dragon in the bushes, but there was darkness some steps later. Beyond a couple of trees, her light began to fade into an impenetrable, blank black. Resisting the urge to light up the whole forest with fire, she gave it a minute or two... prepared for anything... but it remained quiet and calm, and so she move into it, but warily, despite its apparent lack of malevolence.

Upon entering it, she also exited, for the reason her light had not reached any trees was that this was the end of them; she had at last broken free of Mirkwood.

Above her were stars. Not so bright that they illuminated anything, but all over the sky nonetheless. They weren't her stars either, but indeed of another world. She could recognize none of them, and she had spent years in Astronomy class.

At this, Lily became dismayed, heartbroken, and she settled herself between two roots of the nearest tree — just in case the Nazgûl came, so she could disappear into the forest again if need be. Though she was fairly certain she would fight them to the death if they came, and be done with this madness, this world, this forest, the darkness of which somehow hung over the land beyond it.

A Cushioning Charm or two and her spot became relatively comfortable. Not like a proper wizard's bed, but good enough. She slung her cloak on top of herself, and muttered spells upon it as well: the Muggle-Repelling, Shield, Silencing, and Impervius Charms. She was fairly positive not a single one had worked other than the Impervius Charm, and that only seemed to work specifically on the parts her hands had run over; she tested this by conjuring water and letting it spill on the cloak, only sections of which remained dry.

But it was all her tired mind could think to do now. If she hadn't been so exhausted, she might've been able to come up with more creative protections, but what she had now worked well — hidden partly in a tree, a charmed cloak over her, and that would, she hoped, be enough. When she woke, she would then further decide what to do regarding her whole situation. Sleep was needed now, though, and so she fell into dreams.

Vague dreams, never showing her a full picture: she dreamt of a black tower, taller than any skyscraper she had ever seen; of blistering heat and old men in blue; of the sea, of a great ship and great winds, a long voyage across water; of an island and something like peaceful loneliness; of lands frozen and ruined, and a wearying journey across them; of the cries of eagles, the shadows of mountains, and that which loomed within.

And when morning came and she opened her eyes blearily, she found her cloak had slipped off, and standing in front of her was a man, old and odd, brown hair and beard greying, leaning on a wooden staff.

"Good morning," he said smiling, as though there was quite nothing wrong about it.

Lily set him on fire.


	3. Like a Wounded Animal

**Note:**

A few answers to guest reviews that I can't directly respond to: Lily's hair is black at the moment. She doesn't know what happened to her wand. The Nazgûl _is_ dead; for non-book readers, I'll explain. In the books, the Nazgûl never die and come back to life. This is a movie invention. Another thing to add, for those doubtful that Lily could have killed one, the Nazgûls' power is tied to their master, Sauron. When he is diminished, so are they. When his strength grows, so does theirs.

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_Chapter Three_

_Like a Wounded Animal_

Lily whispered the incantation into her hands, gently, as if magic would fail her if she was too harsh with it. Water rose from her palms swiftly, like it had been trapped beneath her skin, eager to escape at last. Then she turned it to ice, and with another spell, "_Episkey_," it became something _more_. Or so she hoped.

A few years ago, before her fifth year at Hogwarts, she wouldn't have thought to use a healing charm in such an unconventional manner; but the threat of Voldemort had pushed her into new understandings of magic, of how it worked, of just how flexible and versatile each and every spell could be, if only applied right.

The ice had a better chance of tempering her magic, uncontrollable and wild as it may be without a focus, such as a wand; and even with wands, certain spells often worked much better if applied to an object first rather than directly (flying brooms, Time-Turners, invisibility cloaks). She feared she might make the old man explode if she were to try it directly on his hands. She had already set him on fire when she had only meant to Stun him.

"Here," she said, holding the ice out to him. "Just... let it melt a little in your hands."

"Ah, thank you, thank you," he said softly, leaning forward and cupping the ice. He sat back on his boulder and sighed with relief. "Wonderful... oh, yes, it soothes the skin rather nicely."

Lily grimaced apologetically. "I'm sorry again. These past few weeks — or months, I don't know — they've reduced to me to — to like a wounded animal, I guess. I can barely think straight sometimes. I didn't mean to cast fire at you."

"No worries, my dear, no worries at all. I'm quite fond of animals. Taking care of them, making sure they recover nice and easy should injury or illness befall them..." His words were gentle and light, as though she were his precious granddaughter, as though she hadn't just lit him on fire, as though she really were a wounded animal.

A full recovery was probably a little beyond her, though... Her mind and soul felt too defiled to ever put back together. But his hands were not, and the least she could do was better them.

"Well," she said, "if I did the spell properly, the ice should at least partially heal your burns. Give it a few minutes."

"Quite curious," he murmured, "quite curious..." He rolled the ice over in his hands. "Strange magic it is. Few I know could heal so swiftly an injury... and then even athelas or some other such herb might be needed."

Lily wondered how powerful his magic was if he couldn't heal a simple burn even with a staff — for wizard he was. Their magic had clashed in their quick duel. Having been woken from her dreams of dead things, Lily had attempted to send a Stunner after the wizard almost instinctively. Yet only fire had burst forth. Her experiences thus far in this cruel world were that of evil, and only evil. Careful consideration could have cost her life, and so she had attacked rashly.

Their fight was short-lived indeed. Strange words had spilled from his lips the moment her hand had ignited; too late to stop the first bout of flames, but the rest had waned halfway the distance, setting the area between them alight, soon diminishing altogether. Lily had scrambled quite a distance away from him — like a frightened cat, slinking back into the shadows of Mirkwood. And he coaxed her out as if she were one, with patience and gentle words. And food.

And now they were here, the two of them sitting on boulders near the edge of Mirkwood. The sun was climbing to its peak in the blue sky, but it was not strong, and the wind was pleasantly cool, especially after the unmoving thick air of the forest. Lily ate (some vegetarian meal wrapped in a large leaf) while he talked.

He explained himself: apparently, while she was making a ruckus running through Mirkwood, he had heard her and come to investigate. _He_ had been what had followed her in the woods, and what had scared away the lurking critters in the dark. But he had been cautious, and waited until dawn to introduce himself.

"You haven't introduced yourself," she said, finally speaking up. "Not yet."

"Radagast," the wizard said. "Radagast the Brown."

"Radagast the Brown," Lily repeated.

What an unusual world this was, evil and corrupted but also strange; from her time with the orcs and here now, it was clear this world's inhabitants talked a bit odd, like she might expect out of someone still living in the nineteenth century, at times more archaic than Dumbledore's speech, and it was clear their customs were different too. Radagast the Brown... Lilith the Black... and there were similar names too somewhere deep in her forgotten memories.

Never once had she heard Dumbledore call himself Dumbledore the White, for his hair and beard, or Dumbledore the Purple, for those absurd robes he liked to wear.

(And oh how her heart ached now for Dumbledore's company.)

"And you, my dear?" said Radagast.

"Lily," she said absently, but Radagast continued to stare expectantly at her, as though expecting her to continue. "Potter," she added, maybe hoping it would spark recognition in his eyes.

"Ah," said Radagast. "Yes, one with your talents may make quite the pottery."

"Hm? Oh, no, my name is Lily Potter."

"Your father's name is Potter?"

"Well, James Potter."

Radagast frowned. "Now you're mightily confusing me. You are the daughter of Potter, but your father's name is James, and his father's name was Potter? Do I simply misunderstand Middle-earth's customs? I admit it has been some time since I have last — hmm — mingled with those outside the familiar lands of the Vales of Anduin."

But if anything, it was she who misunderstood Middle-earth customs.

Lily raised a pacifying hand. "My name is actually Liliana. Potter is just my surname. My parents, James and Lily, called me Anna, but after their deaths I was taken in by my Aunt Petunia, who despised my mother — and, by extension, me. Out of spite, I took to calling myself Lily; to pour salt in the wound." She shrugged. "The name stuck. It was a way of feeling connected to my mother, I suppose."

When she was finished, Radagast just stared at her blankly, as though he hadn't heard a word. If this turned out to be the case, she was going to set him on fire again. But then understanding bloomed in his eyes and he nodded. "Surnames, yes... yes, I remember now... I see, I see. That makes more sense." He reached over to give her a pat on the shoulder. "I think your mind's still a bit befuddled, but I'm glad you got it out right at last."

He meant it as a joke, and she would have laughed at the absurdity of it if it had happened before her time in Dol Guldur, but now she felt world-weary. So instead of laughing like she might have done a year or two back, she gave a weak, false smile and finished the rest of her food.

Meeting another wizard had raised her hopes, given her _something_ to latch onto, something familiar — but there remained a sort of disconnect between the two, a difference in customs and speech and perhaps even general knowledge. Radagast was a kind fellow, but Lily doubted he'd be able to help her in any meaningful way. At the moment he was too busy examining his own hands to see her distress.

"Still sensitive," he said, "but no longer does it burn endlessly like it had."

"I have to go," she said suddenly, rising to her feet and licking the remaining crumbs off her fingers.

Radagast stopped and looked up at her. "Go? Where will you go?"

Lily looked around, as though there'd be signposts to guide her home. "I don't know. North... West... Maybe back to Dol Guldur..." She looked to the distant west. Against the sky were the faint outlines of tall mountains. Her eyes were sharper now than they were back when she still wore glasses, and they also caught a faraway river.

Radagast's eyes were still on her, the concern tripled in force. "_Dol Guldur_?" he said quietly. "By the — oh, there are no curses for such foolishness! What could you possibly find in that dark fortress?"

"I don't know," said Lily again. "Answers?"

"Answers for what?" said Radagast. "What questions does one such as yourself have that _Dol Guldur_ of all places damned and defiled is the place to answer them?"

"I didn't have time to really search the place," she continued, not really sure what her questions were either. "Those Nazgûl came, and I —"

"_Nazgûl_." It was more a statement than a question. Radagast's calm demeanor had disappeared, replaced by fear and a sudden lunge for his staff.

"You know them?"

Radagast stood and looked around, as though the wraiths would burst from the trees at any moment.

"Radagast!" said Lily, bringing his attention back to her. "They're not here. I can feel them when they're near, and —"

"Aye, their mere presence is terrible," said Radagast, eyes wide, "and all those around the Nazgûl will feel their evil. But do I feel it now from their presence or from your frightful words, I do not know."

"I don't feel them now." Lily glanced back at the forest. "But we should move anyway. They're probably on my trail, or trying to find it at least."

"The Nine follow you?" said Radagast, his fear growing.

"Eight."

"What?"

"Eight," repeated Lily. "There's eight now. Well, there were four at Dol Guldur, but who knows where the others are. I had to kill one to flee. At least I think I killed it. I tried to Apparate out of Dol Guldur, but that put me somewhere... somewhere different." She fought back a shiver. "Apparating back, I fell right into one of them, and — well, he's dead now..." She trailed off, seeing Radagast's expression.

His fear had been tempered with surprise and awe, and some confusion too, and he stared at her for a moment longer than Lily was comfortable with.

"You slew a Nazgûl?" he said in an odd, disbelieving sort of voice.

Lily felt another sudden urge to light Radagast on fire again, but she squashed it, worrying that perhaps these momentary surges of fury were Lilith attempting to rise again. Or had she been so thoroughly broken in Dol Guldur that the anger she had once tempered was reborn?

"Not without great difficulty," she said slowly, keeping her tone as calm and collected as she could, and she showed him her hands, which were still healing from the frostbite-like injuries they gained from touching the Nazgûl. "I had a bunch of other bruises from falling down the hill, but they're gone now. I kind of heal fast."

Radagast shuffled forward, taking one of her hands into his. "You do not use athelas?"

"I've no idea what that is."

"Kingsfoil."

"Still don't know."

He blinked, then slowly looked up toward her eyes. "You do not come from here, Liliana, daughter of James."

Lily withdrew her hand. "No, I don't."

"Your magic is strange, yet powerful; you seem educated, yet you lack much knowledge; you appear young, so young, as if only sixteen, and yet your eyes carry a heavy weight to them." Radagast's eyes felt as though they were staring into her soul, then they sparked with realization, and then again with sorrow. "From the West you must have come, then, but swiftly imprisoned it seems... Oh, what evils must have befallen you."

"I'm eighteen," was all Lily said, and even it was spoken halfheartedly.

"You do not deny the rest."

Though it was still morning, Lily wished to close her eyes and go to sleep, a dreamless slumber in which she could rest from this conversation. It wasn't a particularly emotional discussion, not something that should drain her energy — and yet it did. She sat back down, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked up at the wizard.

"Radagast... I don't know where I am. I'm not from Middle-earth, but I know I've spent some time here. I don't know if I've come from this West of yours. I can't remember any of it. Nothing besides my time in Dol Guldur's dungeons."

For a long moment Radagast just stared, his expression intense and emotional. Then he nodded, and a moment later a brown elk with enormous antlers burst from the forest, startling Lily into a defensive position as it bound over to Radagast, who held out a palm to her.

"Panic not, Liliana, for this is a friend. An elven elk." It was an elk indeed, though its antlers looked as if they belonged to a moose, and she had never seen an elk so large and majestic. "Perhaps you have slain a Nazgûl, but perhaps you have not, for such evil has a way of deceiving its enemies. And whether it be Eight or Nine, the Nazgûl remain treacherous."

"Are you leaving?" said Lily, disheartened. "I mean, I get it — I'm dangerous —"

Radagast gave her another one of his kind smiles. "_We_ are leaving, my dear. Come, there is room enough for the both of us. I will take us to safer lands." He patted the elk, and it crouched down to allow Radagast to throw himself on top. After a bit of a struggle, silly enough to make Lily really smile for the first time in months, he reached out a hand for her.

She walked over and grabbed it, allowing him to pull her up. What choice did she have? It was either this or walk on foot with the Nazgûl surely on her trail, and Radagast seemed a good man. Maybe he could have used a bath or two, but his earthy scent wasn't unpleasant. It was certainly preferable to the stench of orcs.

"Might I ask you a question?" said Radagast as the elk began moving them westward. "Where is it you think you are? And where do you wish to be?"

"I wish to be in Britain, but you don't know where that is," said Lily, and Radagast shook his head in agreement. "Or Europe? The United Kingdom?"

"No, the names are unfamiliar to me," said Radagast. "But much of the West is now forgotten to me, so long has it been..."

"You think it's this West that I'm from?" asked Lily, wrapping her cloak cozily around her as she leaned into Radagast's back.

"Where else? I believe you were sent here as I was, an Istar, to help Middle-earth against the dark forces. And perhaps you were taken on the voyage by the Necromancer, for she is known to sail the seas. And then trapped inside Dol Guldur, where your memories were further stripped of you."

"What's an Istar?" said Lily, her voice slightly muffled.

"A wizard," said Radagast. "There were five of us, but now there are six. Some call us the Istari."

"There are only five wizards?" said Lily, her hope once again deflating.

"Six now," said Radagast, a smile in his voice. "I thought perhaps you were just a human sorceress, but now I think not. A mastery of death hangs about you like a cloak."

Lily wasn't sure what to say or think. _A mastery of death_ — could he be referring to the Deathly Hallows? She _had_ become the Master of Death, though she had not believed it had meant anything. Had it? Could they be the reason she was sent here, to a place where such a thing was recognizable? How could Radagast even tell? Or were his words mere coincidence? And could there truly be only five other wizards in Middle-earth? And what good would they be, if Radagast was a standard?

But no, that wasn't fair. Radagast had watched over her, had given her something to eat, was protecting her now, was answering her questions as she, a stranger to him, rested further on his back. She could have used a few more hours of sleep. Maybe more than a few.

"As for where I think I am," she said, "that would be Middle-earth, right?"

"Indeed it would."

"And what's Middle-earth? Is it the world in its entirety?"

"Middle-earth is a continent, which lies on the world of Arda."

Lily nodded. It was hitting her once again that she was quite literally on another planet. Probably another universe entirely, as it was impossible there was another planet in her universe where humans existed and also spoke her tongue. "And the other continents?"

"You do not remember any?" said Radagast, sounding somewhat surprised.

"No," said Lily, deciding it was simpler to lie about amnesia than explain she was from another dimension. He seemed comforted and reassured that she was from this West, so she let him believe it for now.

Radagast nodded grimly. "Dol Guldur must have —"

"The other continents, Radagast," she said tiredly.

"Of course," he said. "There is Middle-earth. To the south of Middle-earth, the Dark Land; to the east, the Land of the Sun; there is nothing to the north but frozen waste."

"And where are we going now?"

"To find some answers from a friend. It is some twenty leagues from here. Sixty miles, if that is your measurement."

That meant hours of riding, probably. They were in for a good bit of conversation. Lily didn't mind. It would give her time to get as much information out of him as possible.

"What kind of answers?" she asked.

Radagast appeared to think for a moment before coming to a decision. "I suppose it's of no harm telling you what I know. You are from the West. One of us now, I should think, and as I am not considered one of the Wise then I cannot tell you what you ought not to know anyway. And this is the reason I have traveled south from my home, Rhosgobel, some fifty leagues north from here, right on the edge of Mirkwood."

Lily appreciated that he expanded on things he said without her having to ask. It was another kind gesture, his willingness to explain and his patience with her apparent amnesia.

"And what is this West?" said Lily before he could continue. "You said that's where I'm from."

"To the west now lies the New Lands," said Radagast, "but that is not of what I speak."

"Middle-earth, Dark Land, Land of the Sun, New Lands..." Lily gave a faint snort. "Creative."

Radagast hummed. "Yes, I suppose they are unimaginative... Though to the west there was once another, before the New Lands..."

"Oh?" What did that even mean? _Before_ the New Lands?

"Aman," said Radagast, and there was a kind of nostalgia in his voice. "It was called Aman."

"It sounds nice."

"I would not know. I did once, but that knowledge is now lost to me... as it is to you. But my forgetfulness comes from very long years. Though your eighteen of torment must have seemed longer."

"Is it gone now?" said Lily.

"Gone?" said Radagast. "No, not gone, not entirely. It has merely left Arda in its way... And now the New Lands lie west, though some may sail west still to reach Aman, the home of the Valar."

Lily had no idea what any of that meant. "The Valar?"

"The Powers of Arda," said Radagast, looking back at her. "Those who shaped the world and created the land which you sit, stand, and ride upon."

It sounded a lot like religious nonsense to Lily. She gave an unconvincing smile and nodded.

Radagast smiled too, but genuinely. "You do not believe me. Your loss of memory must be deep if you do not recall even the Valar. I do not begrudge you for it, though I am curious on how it is you experienced the Nazgûl and all their horror yet still do not believe in the existence of the Ainur?"

"I've dealt with things like the Nazgûl back home," said Lily. "But I've never seen any evidence of actual gods or disappearing continents. Disappearing cities or even islands, sure, but entire continents vanishing and new ones taking their place?" She shook her head. "Should I be trusting anything that comes out of your mouth, Radagast?"

"I speak only the truth!" said Radagast in good humour. "Indeed, we ourselves are kin to the Valar. Though perhaps they have distanced themselves further from us now... We are the Maiar, those of the Ainur created by Eru before the Years of the Lamps. And it seems you do remember some of it, if you remember things like the Nazgûl and disappearing islands. The Downfall of Númenor, perhaps?"

"I only understood half of those words," said Lily, a laugh in her voice.

He hummed in amusement. "It is good to see you still capable of laughter. In truth, I'm not so sure myself. Long has it been since those days, and perhaps my memory has faded to the point of utter inaccuracy. Think of it as nothing but the ramblings of an old man."

"Oh, I'm already ahead of you," said Lily, gazing at the view. It really was beautiful, the plains and the far distant river and the mountains beyond it, all untouched by industry and pollution. Not even the land around Hogwarts had been so pure and fresh in air. Even the birds and wildlife were more alive out here, now that they were farther away from Mirkwood. "So what of our immediate surroundings? What's around _us_?"

"You've experienced Mirkwood," said Radagast. "That forest is all there will be to the east for our entire journey, so vast and deep it is. And you see the Misty Mountains. They are all there will be to the west for our entire journey."

"So vast and tall they are," said Lily in acknowledgement.

"And hazardous," said Radagast. "There are few safe passages through them. And they reach farther north and south than Mirkwood."

"What's south from here?"

Radagast gave a slightly sorrowful sigh. "Rohan," he said. "Plagued by the harsh winter they now struggle through. From the west it came, the bitter winds and icy storms. From north, truly, descending down upon Arnor like a creeping doom. And now it spreads slowly through the Gap of Rohan, a land between the Misty and White Mountains. The winter even kisses the western lands of Gondor, south of those White Mountains."

Lily really needed a map. She told him so.

"Oh, I have one," said Radagast, reaching into his robes.

"You've had one this whole time?" said Lily, swatting his arm lightly. "Why didn't you say so?"

"Well, why didn't you ask?" said Radagast indignantly, and he handed her a rolled up piece of parchment.

Lily smiled, because of their comfortable banter and because the parchment was familiar. Opening the map up, she let her eyes roam over it almost hungrily, drinking in every bit of information like Hermione would. Radagast stayed quiet, and for at least an hour she memorized all she could.

Everything he had said was true. And when she saw some of the names, they sparked some kind of memory at the back of her head, something not easily grasped. The forest named Lothlórien gave her that same forbidding feeling when she had previously thought of the west. Or was that unease Lilith's?

"What's in Lothlórien?" she said, and when she looked back up, she was startled to discover the elk was cantering, nearly galloping. It was so smooth she could barely feel it.

Radagast startled too, as though he had forgotten she was there. "What?"

"Lothlórien," said Lily again. "What's in it?"

"Oh," said Radagast, slowing the elk. "Elves. And a friend."

Was that where they were heading then? West to Lothlórien? And _house-elves?_

But then that same subconscious, mnemonic part of her brain told her she had it wrong, and that the Elves were not at all like the ones she knew. She tried desperately to capture those fleeting and tantalizing fragments of memory hanging at the edges of her mind, but simply could not manage it. All she knew was that Lilith was afraid of Lothlórien.

Did that mean it was a place of good, one that had been opposed to Lilith's evils? It had to be if Radagast was heading there. Unless he believed his friend was captured in Lothlórien. It wasn't as though evil couldn't be afraid of other evil. Death Eaters had been afraid of Voldemort, and she was rather sure Voldemort would have been at least slightly frightened by Sauron.

_Sauron_.

There it was again, the sudden and random appearance of relevant information. The Shadow had been called Sauron by Lilith. And the name carried with it a hint of fear, just as Lothlórien did. But no deeper details presented themselves. She hated this, how scrambled her thoughts were.

"Who's Sauron?" she asked.

Radagast stiffened. "You remember that name?"

"It just came to me."

For a moment, Radagast said nothing. But then he shook himself and spoke. "Sauron is the Dark Lord, an ancient Maia who has been on Middle-earth longer than all the Istari combined. He was originally thought to be the Necromancer, before it was learned it was in fact Lilith the Black." Now Lily stiffened, and he felt it. "Ah, you know her name too? Yes, she puts fear into my heart as well, Liliana. Oh, how terrible she is... You must know. And terrible more is that now there is her and Sauron as well to deal with... Middle-earth is not prepared for such evils. Though we do not know where Sauron is or has been for many years now."

"What do you know of her?" said Lily quietly.

"The Necromancer has been our greatest foe in these recent years," said Radagast, and he lowered his voice too, as if Lilith could be listening. "Some did not believe it to be a woman at first, but the White Council knew better, and the rest learned soon enough. That is the 'we' I spoke of; a gathering of the wisest loremasters of Middle-earth. Though my place in it is contested... Hm...

"She is Lilith the Black, the Necromancer, the Witch-Queen, a sorceress far mightier than Radagast the Brown. I saw her only once, from afar, amongst dead trees in the night. Her mere presence was horrible to behold. Eerily she stood still, as if she were a spectre from a cruel nightmare. I could not move. My throat closed and my eyes burned and my ears rang. She did not look at me, but she knew I was there. Had she acknowledged me I might have fallen down and wept and begged. I have never felt such fear."

Lily felt her own throat tighten. He was describing exactly what Sauron felt like. Had she truly become so evil? Before Sauron she would have assumed he was exaggerating, because surely merely seeing someone from afar couldn't produce such results of fear; not even dementors could do that; but she had met Sauron, or at least a shadow of him, and that unseen shade was enough to do to her as Lilith had done to Radagast.

"Alas for Mirkwood," he said. "The only good thing to come from it is that she seemed to not like the spiders. And thus, none have seen them in the woods for years."

Lily's throat became even more dry. "Years? So she's been around for a while?"

"Oh yes," said Radagast. "She and the White Council are why I am so far south. Ah! I have not told you that tale, have I?"

"No, I interrupted you."

"I do not know all the details," said Radagast, "but I will tell you what I have been told: for many years the Witch-Queen has been a deadly danger to Middle-earth, but especially Rhovanion. That is the entire region that takes up —"

"Yeah, I know," said Lily, looking at the map. "It covers all of Mirkwood and the land surrounding it."

"And all the lands were in danger," continued Radagast. "And the White Council was against her from the start, though Gandalf the Grey believed the Necromancer to be Sauron at first. But it wasn't until the Witch-Queen extended her evil reach to all of Middle-earth, from Lindor to Harad, that she was more fiercely opposed.

"The White Council traveled to Dol Guldur to confront her just two days past. And so they did. Though I do not know what has happened. Down south I saw many lights flashing, and I assume a great battle happened. I went to Dol Guldur, but it was abandoned; though perhaps I had missed you, for there was much rubble and dust. But now I have come across you. Now we ride to Lothlórien, so that I may see about the fate of the battle. And to tell that Gandalf was not completely incorrect; for if the Nazgûl are about, then the Enemy is indeed growing stronger, as Gandalf feared..."

Lily tried not to panic at his words. Had Lilith killed his friends? She hadn't seen any human bodies, but it was as Radagast had said: there was much rubble and dust.

"— then the terrible winter came across much of Arnor," said Radagast, and Lily realized he was still talking.

"The winter? In Rohan?" she said.

"Yes, and west of Rohan in Arnor. Saruman believes it is the Witch-Queen's doing. It is an unnatural winter."

Her doing? Lily wondered. Could she have done such a thing? Maybe the likes of Dumbledore could bring a winter over a whole land, but surely she wasn't capable of it. But then again, this wasn't Lily. It was Lilith who had done so.

"Who's Saruman?"

And so they rode, Radagast answering every question he could. About Saruman, about the five Istari and the White Council, about Mirkwood and Lothlórien, about the Elves and the Dwarves and everything else she was curious about. Radagast's knowledge did not extend to all of Middle-earth, however, as he spent most of his time here in the Vales of Anduin, the long valley which the nearing river ran through.

At times Lilith's memories would surface and she would finish Radagast's sentence for him. So Radagast rambled on, telling her all sorts of things in hopes it would help her memory. Or rather, Lilith's memory, but Radagast didn't need to know that.

"Hm. Odd that I cannot see them as of late," said Radagast as he gazed off into the distance after telling her of the Great Eagles. "They are often seen flying about the peaks of the Misty Mountains. Yet on my journey southward I did not see one of them, and now there is no sign of them also..."

Lily remembered her dreams. Of the cries of eagles, of what she thought were balls of flame coming down from the stars above. She felt her stomach twist, and so she changed the subject, asking him if he had anything she could pour water into.

Radagast had his own water, but Lily conjured her own and poured it into a spare canteen of the wizard's. Finding some meat to eat was out of the question. Radagast had a very deep love for animals indeed, and he scowled something fierce when she asked if she could kill and roast a squirrel.

"The squirrel has done you no ill! How would you feel if someone plucked you from your habitat for their own desires?" he said pointedly.

"What Sauron did is a little different, I think," she said, annoyed.

"Don't say his name!"

"Oh, not this again. Would you like me to call him You-Know-Who?"

"I'm afraid I don't know who," said Radagast, handing her some berries.

She took them grumpily. And after she tried them, she took more gratefully, and then magically doubled them. For all his outlandishness, Radagast was enjoyable to spend time with. She couldn't quite connect to him personally, for they had nothing but magic in common, but his kindness and love for life was unmatched by anyone she had ever met. He reminded her somewhat of Hagrid. It was comforting.

Some time later, when the sun was setting, they stopped and found a place to rest for the night. Lily gave the elk a berry she had enlarged to absurd size. Or rather, Radagast had given it to the elk after he had stopped examining it with great interest. But then his mood became somber as they readied for sleep.

"Be alert even in your slumber," he warned, "for the Nazgûl are most powerful when the sun is gone. Then the terror which comes over others in their presence is increased greatly."

"I know," said Lily, staring into the dark blue fire she had made.

"Unfortunate that you do," said Radagast. "I will sleep with my eyes open."

And indeed he did. He fell asleep before she did, though his eyes remained wide. It would have been amusing, perhaps, had not his words placed an unease over her heart. Nothing came in the night, though.

The next day was more of the same: hours of riding across the lands, which were mostly flat with nothing but scattered trees and tall grass, which grew taller the more they traveled, eventually reaching all the way to their waists.

This didn't stop the elk from galloping, however.

"Shouldn't the elk slow down a bit?" said Lily. "There might be a hole or rock or something up ahead that —"

"This is an elven elk," said Radagast. "It will know."

"If you say so."

"I do. As a matter of fact, here, I will show you."

"Is it easy to ride?" asked Lily.

"Say not _it_, nor _ride_," said Radagast, "for we do not ride elven elk; instead they allow us to be carried by them. We may merely guide them in our preferred direction."

The two of them switched positions then, so that she directed the elk instead. It was easier than she expected. It certainly felt as though the elk was giving her the privilege of travelling on top of it. They rode this way for the rest of the day, and again slept when night came, this time in the comfort and privacy of the tall grass.

Finally on the third day, they neared the Great River, Anduin. And across the rushing water, in the distance, was Lothlórien. Even from miles away Lily was taken aback by how otherworldly it looked.

The trees were of mighty girth, though Lily could not guess their height, only that they were taller than any trees she had ever seen before; as tall and thick as the towers of Hogwarts, perhaps. Their bark was grey, and with the reflecting sunlight the outer trees held a sort of pale glow.

Most of the leaves were pale green, but some were golden, and when the wind shifted them they glinted in the sun the same way the silver bark did, as if there were lights hidden amongst the leaves. In an odd sort of way she rather thought she was witnessing these colors for the first time, such was the beauty of the so-called Golden Wood.

"In a few weeks the leaves will turn all golden," said Radagast, gazing at the forest too. "And they will stay so all throughout winter, falling only in the spring. Then green leaves will sprout again, but not before the forest is carpeted and roofed in gold, and the grey bark in golden flowers. Now come, there is a bridge that will take us across the water."

Over his shoulder Lily looked up and down the river in confusion, for she could see no bridge at all. "Are you sure —?"

"The Elves have cleverly disguised it," said Radagast, getting off the elk and walking over to the cliff which directly overlooked the river. Lily followed, but no matter how closely she looked, she could not see anything. Not even some thin piece of rope that the likes of Radagast would have called a bridge.

"Do they have magic?" said Lily.

"Magic?" said Radagast. "Yes, I suppose it is in its way a spell of concealment, though the Elves would not call it so. For it is not magic to them, but just their way of doing things."

Lily frowned. "What does that mean? I've done magic for half my life but I still view it as magic."

"Ah, but you are young and the Elves are old." Radagast looked up in thought. "Such things to them are as... as building fires are to animals. It is mundane and methodical to us, but our elk here would view it as magic, for how else could one strike wood and create blistering heat?"

"But that comes only from the elk's incapability to understand such things," said Lily.

"Could Men understand all of your magic? For not even I do, and I am a wizard."

No, they couldn't. They might be able to learn much of the magical theory behind many spells, but some things were still beyond their reach no matter how hard they tried. Sensing magic, for example, or Muggle-Repelling Charms; they would twist a non-magical person's mind in a way that they would not even notice. They'd be simply incapable of conceiving the truth of the matter.

"I suppose not," she said eventually. "So where's this bridge?"

Radagast lifted his staff. "We shall see. Cennada i iant an i elvellyn eb-dhir!"

And he brought the staff down on the ground hard. Some kind of magic was clearly unleashed. Lily felt it. But nothing revealed itself. Radagast himself seemed confused, and he took a step forward to look down below into the river before he gave a soft cry. Lily peeked over the edge of the cliff too, and she could see among both banks of the river the remnants of a bridge.

"It is broken," said Radagast, as if she were blind. "This is most worrying. Not many could so easily find this bridge, much less break it."

"The Witch-Queen..."

"Yes, likely," said Radagast grimly. "And if it was not her, then she was the reason for it. Though surely the Elves would have known the river would not stop her. I don't believe it would even hinder her. Unsurprised would I be if she simply leapt over it."

"Well, I can't jump over the river," said Lily, "but I think I can get us across."

Great curiosity sparked in Radagast's eyes. "Indeed. I would be most interested to see you perform more of your magic, fruitful as it is. What will you do?"

Lily wasn't sure. "I could maybe slowly freeze the river if the current wasn't as strong as it is."

"Then we will have to simply calm the river, won't we?" said Radagast, already moving to make his way down to the river-bank. When they were there, he stood holding his staff close and began muttering words of an unknown language. "Sîdh am sin nîn," he repeated, or something of the like.

And slowly, to Lily's surprise, the waters began to calm. The current hadn't been fierce before, but still strong enough that she feared it would disrupt any wandless Freezing Spell she attempted. But now the water was slowing, and in time it barely moved. She was actually impressed.

"Do it swiftly," said Radagast, his tone suggesting he'd have to stay focused to keep the river as it was.

Lily plunged her hands into the water, and had to stop herself from recoiling. The cold was already biting. It would make it easier for her, she hoped. First she cast the Freezing Charm (not to be confused with the Freezing Spell, which would turn things to ice while the Charm would immobilize targets). In doing so, the water near her became completely still.

In the reflection of the water she saw herself. Her green eyes, thankfully unchanged, and her black hair, once a coppery-red, an orange slightly darker than the Weasleys'. Everybody had always told her she looked just like her mother, except perhaps her cheekbones, which were more prominent like her father's. Sirius had once joked it was the only good feature James had, and that she had the best of both worlds.

No longer wanting to look or think about those times, Lily cast the Freezing Spell.

Ice formed immediately around her arms, spreading quickly for a few meters in front of her. She repeated the spell. "_Glacius. Glacius. Glacius_." In the end the spell would reach no farther than about a third of the width of the river. And what was worse, her hands were stuck in the ice.

Radagast saw her struggle and laughed. "Didn't quite think that through, did you?"

Lily glared at him, then at the ice. "_Reducto_!"

The ice broke apart. Too well. Cracks appeared throughout the entirety of the ice she had made, and the blocks began separating. She cursed and refroze it all, and then magically heated her hands until she was able to slip them out. Magic was rather irritating when she didn't have a wand.

"Not even half of it is yet frozen, Liliana!" said Radagast.

"Yeah, yeah," said Lily, getting up and taking a careful step onto the ice. It held her, and she rushed to its edge, nearly slipping into the water. Throwing her arms into the cold river again, she repeated her actions, and then again and again until the entire width of this part of the river was frozen.

"Very well done," said Radagast, walking slowly over while examining the ice. His elk followed him not too far behind. "Now we do not need to wet and chill ourselves!"

"To Lothlórien, then?" said Lily.

"Now to Lothlórien." Radagast got back onto the elk and helped her up again. "We will be at the edge in a few hours."

"Finally."

"You weary already of the journey?" said Radagast. "But it is not quite so lengthy. It will take three times as long for me to reach my home, Rhosgobel."

Lily grumbled under her breath.

"Cheer up, Liliana!" he said. "We near Lothlórien, and there we will see about the battle, of the Witch-Queen and her dark fortress, and mayhaps more answers will be revealed to you."

But Lothlórien only gave new questions, to both her and Radagast, for when they reached it at last they found it was wholly barred to them, and that there were no Elves to answer Radagast's calls from where they remained outside its borders.

"Fair Elves of Lothlórien!" he called. "It is I, Radagast the Brown, with a companion by the name of Liliana! Lily the Green I name her! For her eyes are greener than the fair leaves of your trees, and she is another of the Istari. We wish to speak with the Lady of the Golden Wood!"

There was no answer. And when Radagast tried to walk the elk into the forest, the elk was unable to do so. Indeed, both she and Radagast could not find it within themselves to step into the trees even on their own feet. It was as though some other will was set against them.

"That is likely exactly what it is," said Radagast when Lily told him this.

"I don't like this," she said. Was this what muggles felt when they came across a Muggle-Repelling Charm? Her body simply refused to walk into the forest.

"Nor do I. I have never been an enemy of the Lady of Lothlórien." He looked deeply troubled. "What reason does she have to hinder me so? What have I done, O Lady of Lórien, to anger you such?"

"Maybe it's me," said Lily. "She knows you, but she doesn't know me."

"But I know you," said Radagast, frustrated, "and that ought to be enough!" He yelled this at the trees, but still there was no response. "Alas, dark is the day where Lothlórien is so cold to outsiders. Something evil must have befallen the White Council in Dol Guldur."

"You think Galadriel is scared?" said Lily. "Isn't she meant to be thousands of years old?" Though she didn't really believe such a thing.

"Even if so, she has not spent all those years in battle nor learning. Mistake me not, she is still of great power, but the Witch-Queen may be powerful beyond even her. If the White Council has lost the battle, then Lady Galadriel would have retreated here, yes, and she would have disallowed access to any."

"Even you?"

Radagast sighed. "Yes. And I cannot say I blame her. The Witch-Queen has many abilities. From rising the dead to controlling the living, it is understandable that not even I should be trusted any longer. For perhaps I have been bewitched. Would I even know?"

Lily nodded in understanding, and Radagast fell into what looked like deep thought.

"What now?" she said.

"We could travel farther south to Saruman the White, and hope he is in Isengard," said Radagast. "But the winter there is strong, and Saruman does not like to be disturbed often. I may take us to Rhosgobel, and then through Mirkwood to the other side."

"What?" said Lily, alarmed. "Why would we do that?"

"Because we may find Gandalf there," said Radagast. "He and a company of dwarves were making their way to the Lonely Mountain, where Smaug the Dragon is. They wish to get rid of him."

"A dragon?" said Lily, more so to herself than him.

"Yes, a dragon. Gandalf would not mind the extra help, I think. Though your path is your own, my friend. You may leave me now if you wish, and I will give you this elk even, if he should let you. Though I would greatly prefer your company."

Lily probably didn't have the skill to create a wand, not yet, but she had learned a little of wandlore from her gathering of information for the Elder Wand, and also from Ollivander. A wand with a dragon heartstring core wouldn't work best with her, but it had to be better than nothing.

"I'd like to stay with you," she said absently. "How long until we reach Gandalf? Or the dragon?"

"It all depends. Around a month or so if we are lucky," he said, mounting the elk again and holding out his hand for her.

She took it and pulled herself up. "A month of riding?" she said petulantly. "I'm taking a long nap. Wake me up when we're there."

They turned to go. Radagast turned his head and looked to the trees once more, their leaves vivid in the sunlight and swaying in the breeze.

But Lothlórien was silent.


End file.
